Escupitadors De Muerte (Captiulo Seis)
by Electra Medea Yablonski
Summary: The sixth part of Mrs. Richard's Round Robin story.


death spitters 6

Losing Rachel, Harry decides, was definitely the stupidest thing he's ever done in his life. He takes a sip of scumble and wrinkles his nose, wondering how anyone could stand to drink this stuff. 

Harry is at the Salon Sorquina, where Rachel saved him from Voldemort. He's trying very hard to forget. Someone told him that drinking scumble is the best way to forget your sorrows. So far, it's just given him a headache. 

Someone in a black robe sits next to him. "Girl trouble?" 

Harry nods. "Yeah. Broke up with my girlfriend." 

"That's too bad," the man says. "But it was probably the best thing to do." 

"I don't think so," Harry says. "She saved my life." 

The man shrugs. "Ah, girls are fickle. One minute they save your life, the next they're casting the ashes of your newborn son to the wind." He claps a bony hand on Harry's shoulder. "You know," he says, "it's really unlucky for you that I found you." 

Harry looks up into the man's face—and then the scumble takes effect. 

Rachel wakes up with a shock. "Oh my God." She throws the blanket off of herself and starts rummaging through a closet. 

Annie comes into the room, curious. "Hey, what's up?" 

Rachel's head is buried in the closet. "Mom, have you seen my wand? Never mind, here it is." She pulls it out of the closet. It's a 12-incher, ebony with a core of basilisk's tongue. 

"Look, what's happening?" Annie asks. 

"Harry's in trouble," Rachel says. "Dad's got him." She stops for a second. "Only I can't…'cause if Dad dies, then you die too." 

Annie sighs. "Listen, Rachel. The main focus here is this: Defeat the bastard. If I gotta die in the attempt, so be it. I've lived a long life, and the only thing I want now is to see the sumbitch dead. Okay?" 

Rachel nods. "Okay, Mom." 

Annie gives her a kiss on the cheek. "Go get 'em, baby." 

Harry slowly comes to. At first, he can't identify his surroundings. Then he realizes that he's in the dungeons of Hogwarts. He's chained to a wall by his hands. His wand is nowhere to be seen. 

Great. I've spent all this time trying to elude Voldemort, and I get drunk and he gets me. This is just great. He realizes, in a foggy, light-headed way, that he is about to die. 

Voldemort comes over to him, gliding across the floor like a snake. He stares at Harry. "Are you prepared to die?" 

Harry blinks. "Huh?" 

Voldemort sighs. "I'm sorry, but I can't torture anyone with a hangover." He mutters something, and the fog surrounding Harry's brain is gone. 

The delayed shock of the situation takes a second to reach Harry's brain. Then he screams. 

Voldemort grins mirthlessly. "That's better. Any last words? Nah, forget that." He aims his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" The light harmlessly deflects off of Harry and shatters into a million pieces. 

Rachel pushes her way through the crowd that has gathered at the top of the stairs. "What the hell is going on here?" 

"You-Know-Who has Harry," someone says. 

Rachel sighs. "Shit." She makes her way to the top of the stairs. 

Ron grabs her by the arm. "You can't go in there!" 

Rachel glares at him. "Why not? You don't want me to save your friend?" 

"He's put some kind of shield on the doors," Ron explains. "No one can get through." To illustrate, he taps on it. The door to the dungeons crackles with energy. 

Rachel stares at it with a calculating look, then shoves her wand into the middle of it. She is sucked in and disappears…

Voldemort stares at the wand, at Harry, at the wand again. "Gods damn it! I should have known that brat of mine would try to protect you." He turns. "Wormtail, if you would." 

"Um, no," comes a voice. Harry can't quite see Peter Pettigrew, but knows that he's there. 

Voldemort blinks. "Excuse me?" 

"Sorry, but I can't," Pettigrew says. "Look, I've done a lot of stuff for you, I've gotten you Death Eaters, I've cut off my arm for you, I've practically killed myself, but I can't kill this kid." 

"Why not?" Voldemort is getting pissed off. 

"I'm actually not sure," Pettigrew says. "Look, just go with it, OK?" 

"You realize that now I'm going to have to kill you," Voldemort says. 

"Fine." A bemused sigh. 

With a backhand glance at Harry, Voldemort readies his wand. "Avada—" 

"NONE OF THAT, SUMBITCH!" screams a very familiar voice. Rachel is standing in the doorway, her wand at the ready, her face flushed, her hair mussed. 

Harry cranes his neck to get a look at her. "Rachel!" 

Rachel strides into the dungeon, her wand at the ready. "Look, you asshole," she screams at Voldemort. "I have protected this kid, okay? He is not yours to kill! And," she adds as an afterthought, "it's not a good idea to kill Pettigrew either." She casts a glance at Pettigrew, silently telling him to beat it before he gets killed. 

Voldemort hisses. "If I can't kill the child, then someone else must! It has been foretold." 

Rachel looks disgusted. "Yeah? By who?" 

"BY ME!" Voldemort screams. He snatches up an iron spike from somewhere and hurls it at Rachel. 

Rachel catches it just before it hits her. "Don't even try it," she tells him levelly. She aims her wand. "Sorry, but I gotta do this." 

Voldemort looks smug. "Go ahead. If you kill me, you kill your mother, too." 

"Yeah," Rachel says, "I know. She told me. But she also told me to not worry about it." Her voice is unsteady, though. 

"Aha!" Voldemort yells triumphantly. "You can't kill me, can you? You can't, because it'll kill your mother." 

Rachel drops to her knees. "No," she whispers. "I'm sorry, Mom. I love you." 

Harry's heart drops. "Rachel, please…" 

Voldemort glides across the floor to her. "Join me, then," he says. "I can't kill you. But I can give you as much power as you would ever want, if you'll only join me…" He pulls Rachel up off the floor. "Betray your mother and make her safe." 

Suddenly, Rachel throws her arms around her father. "I love you, Daddy," she whispers in his ear. And then… 

Somehow, everything happens at once. Voldemort throws her back against the wall and screams, ripping his hood off. Harry can see his face, and it's not an evil snake face at all, but very human, wracked with love and anguish… 

And Rachel lands against the wall with a sickening crack, and drops like a puppet with cut strings… 

And Harry feels the shackles around his wrists dissolve, and he drops to the floor in a crouch and crawls toward Rachel… 

And Voldemort drops to the ground, cowering, weeping… 


End file.
